


Triangular Theory of Love

by Devilinthebox (princegrisejoie)



Category: Death Note
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Light BDSM, M/M, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 16:01:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3942853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princegrisejoie/pseuds/Devilinthebox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brilliant Honour Student's life becomes a mess when he meets equally brilliant teacher in an elevator. [insp by Tumblr Prompts]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Posting the shameless teacher/student AU I write sometimes on tumblr ~  
> There is no particular plot, they can be read separately.

_I am cursed_ , Light Yagami realises as the elevator halts its journey for the fifth time. He expects to face another empty floor and heaves a deep sigh, eyes closed in repressed frustration.

At this point, he accepts his fate: his first law seminar is a catastrophe and it hasn’t even started yet. His brilliant mind reels off the lies he could actually get away with to explain his lateness. They all sound pathetic at best. 

He allows himself another long, desperate sigh.

Then, there is a voice, quiet and modulated. “Am I interrupting your midday relaxation exercises?”

“Absolutely not.” Light shoots back too quickly and too seriously. He fixes his gaze on the mirror, praying every God whose existence he rejected a long time ago that the elevator carries them up to the fourth floor.

The stranger is eyeing him bizarrely, wide grey eyes clashing with his sharp, dark features. “I think I know you,” he announces as the elevator gates close.

Light refuses to indulge in strangeness. He stubbornly ignores the silent mockery in the stranger’s tone and answers: “I am certain we don’t know each other.”

“Apologies. I might have confused you with one of my students.”

The remark takes Light aback. “Mr. Lawliet,” he breathes, without thinking. He’s never seen him, only envisioned him many times, a fleeting image in the back of his mind.

Lawliet gives a half-smile. Light extends his hand. “I admire your work,” he confesses, and sees the stranger in a brand new light. His coal dark hair contrasts beautifully with his sickly pale skin.

Then Lawliet has the audacity to ignore the hand Light gladly offers him. “There’s no need for that, really.”

As punctuation, the elevator growls. The noise is alarming enough for Light’s shoulders to shoot up in surprise, which draws a smirk from Lawliet.

“I suppose we’re stuck. Are you cursed, Mister Yagami?” he asks him, strangely quiet.

Light considers, for a second, that it is part of some evil, sordid scheme. Then, he rationalizes. Even Lawliet doesn’t possess this sort of power.

He still can’t believe this insufferable, impossibly rude man is the genius he has read about. There are days that are really not worth getting out of bed for.

“Well, we should press the emergency button,” Light suggests, in hope Lawliet will do it for him because right now he just wants to reflect on the unfairness of it all. It’s not his fault. And yet, it always happens. But it’s not his fault, since he does everything so perfectly, all the time. Perhaps the universe itself gets jealous at times.

Lawliet advances on him instead of the moving towards the emergency button.  _Not this._

“The button is just here,” Light says, pointing.

“Have faith. It will move again," Lawliet promises, and Light feels utterly lost. His treacherous body translates the mixed signals into a jagged breath and a hammering heart.

A thought strikes him that he should at least answer but Lawliet moves an inch closer. All Light can do is maintain a deadpan expression, lift his chin up in disdain and hold Lawliet’s haunted look.  _He looks completely mad and out of place, like a character in a book._

“I have no idea who I remind you of, but it’s not me,” Light tells him. He pauses. Lawliet stares at him, a faint, nearly imperceptible smile dancing across his features. “Perhaps you don’t care, but I’d hate to be late to my seminar,” he adds, voice shaking ever so slightly.

Light takes the time to pity each of his student individually. Brilliance and pedagogy rarely go hand in hand and he can’t imagine this bad-mannered, eccentric personage as a teacher.

“You’re a law student. The best of your promotion. A prodigy. They promise you a bright future,” Lawliet whispers. He smells of liquorice. At the mention of his exploits by someone who is nothing short of genius, a rush of pride shakes Light’s body. A smile dangles on the corner of his lips, in spite of himself.

“That’s me. You’ve met me. And I’d be enchanted to have met you in other circumstances –“

A shiver courses his veins, interrupting him. Lawliet’s cold, soft hand is on his neck.

“Excuse me. What are you doing?”   _Why is this happening to me?_

“Don’t apologise. Aren’t I the one at fault?” Lawliet says with a strange fondness, long fingers tracing his jawline. “Don’t smear your brilliance with obedience.”

It’s unclear to Light whether he should punch or kiss him. None of these possibilities is acceptable to the virtuous honour student. As for his personal preference on the matter…he’d rather never know where it lies.

“This is not acceptable,” Light declares in a firm voice. He doesn’t act on it though. There is even a flicker of time where he appreciates Lawliet’s unfamiliar touch.

The elevator moves again, doors finally parting. Light’s eyes pop open and he slides away from Lawliet’s grasp without a word, an impossible craving eating at him. It leaves him longing for sweets. He hates sweets.

*

 _Is there a cure for curses_? Light wonders as his eyes cross Lawliet in the corridor.  _Can someone ruin your perfect day twice?_

“You here?” Light says, expecting the worst.

“Oh. It’s a last minute thing, you couldn’t have known.” Lawliet is cherishing the moment.

“What do you mean?” Light manages.

Lawliet runs a hand through his unkempt hair, all affected nonchalance. _Bastard._  “I’m replacing your seminar tutor, as it happens.” There is no trace of a smile on his face, but his voice holds a hint of childish amusement. “Would you rather come in before or after your teacher?” He says, pointing at the door of room A.77.

Light’s eyes dart to the side, ensuring that no one can see them. Then, he grabs Lawliet by the collar, pulls him closer. “You will not do that again.”

“You’re overstepping, Yagami. I’m a professor.  _Your_  professor,” L drawls, but he doesn’t fight back just yet, visibly relishing the sight of a nervous, volatile Light Yagami.  _All on edge, and because of me,_ Light can almost hear him think. It’s giving him a serious headache.

“You’re not a professor,” Light whips back, his voice dropping to contain his swelling anger, “You’re a seminar tutor.” He slowly releases his grip and manages a cold smile.

“I’ll go in first.”

Lawliet falls silent this time. Only stares at him, bemused. Light spends the entire class wondering what thought could have hit him at this precise second. 

His eyes seldom drift away from Lawliet’s hands.


	2. Chapter 2

Lawliet dismisses class with a nonchalant motion of the hand. “That’s all for today.” He pauses, piercing eyes quickly surveying the assembly of students. “I detect a hint of vague comprehension on your faces. Slightly encouraging, I’d say.” 

The students dissolve into muffled giggles or heavy sighs, in consonance with their opinions on Lawliet as a professor. It takes them about 4.8 minutes to stomp out of the lecture hall. 

Lawliet heaves a sigh and flops down into his chair.

 “We’re not all idiots.” A calm, level voice he knows well. 

“My mistake,” he answers, and doesn’t even lift his head to look at Yagami. 

It’s not the first time Yagami disturbs his alone time. It bothers Lawliet not to be even slightly bothered by it. He has entranced brilliant young minds in the past, but they never had what it took to intrigue him in return. They were drawn to his bizarre charisma, the expertise of his analysis, in pure awe of his otherworldly intellect. 

Yagami…Yagami treats him as an equal. He struggles with it, as his vision of a student-teacher relationship has be nurtured by years of strict, regimented education. 

There is something of a passion in the way Yagami eyes his professor, and if there is something Lawliet specialises in, it’s intensity. 

This doesn’t help that Yagami also happen to have legs a mile long. Lawliet has a sufficient knowledge of myths to fear him, though – brilliance and beauty are the sword and shield of the passive-aggressive.

 “Listen, little prodigy, I have work to do," Lawliet says, eyes finally casted on Yagami.  _Is he wearing lip balm?_ He thinks, shifting slightly in his chair.

“Don’t be patronising.” Light whips back, laying his palms flat on the desk. He has an incomparable boyish, brattish charm, like that of a young dandy in a story.  “Or I’ll be –“ 

“Disobedient?” Lawliet says, voice falling lower. “Will you break a rule, today, Mr Yagami?” 

They are sucked into a heavy, uncomfortable silence and for a flicker of an instant, Lawliet is tempted to apologise. He has an unusual image of what his relation with Light Yagami should be, as he is reluctant to comply with the University absurd set of rules. Still, even he can sense it’s all heading to a dangerous development.For a moment, it’s clear to him that he should send Yagami off somewhere else, far from him. Wilde appears to him in a time of need, though and he figures the best way to quell such ephemeral, irrepressible temptation…is simply to dominate it. It’s the essence of Wilde’s advice, in a certain Lawlietesque fashion -  _the only way to get rid of a temptation is to control it._  

He rises up from his chair, prowls to Yagami, forcing him to turn his back to the desk to face Lawliet. 

“You don’t believe in rules?” Yagami queries, and it’s so obvious he is trying to talk his way out of this that Lawliet decides to indulge him.

 “Not really. I am intelligent enough to know when I’d rather make my own rules,” he responds quietly, moving an inch closer to Yagami. “But you’re a docile young man, aren’t you?” 

He senses Yagami’s body stiffening at the remark. “Overstepping again,” he whispers, the lilt of his voice betraying his Japanese accent.His hands move to Lawliet’s waist, subtle and slow. “I obey the rules of those I respect,” Light murmurs. 

His blatant need to regain the power he lost is showing; he smiles a smile that is more predatory than pleasant and his hands latch on to the fabric of Lawliet’s vest. He is all nervous and focused, like a cobra about to strike. 

“You don’t respect me?” Lawliet asks, lifting an eyebrow in disbelief.

His intimidation tactic consists in ignoring Light’s attempt to entrance him. It proves to be unsatisfying – to win, you have to attack, it’s not supposed to be some empty motto to show off in front of his students,  _damn it_. Yagami turned his own advice against him. Lawliet yields for a minute and lavish his attention on the slightest of Light’s touches. 

A sigh is swallowed when Yagami slides one hand under his shirt.  _This cannot happen like that._ He’d rather cherish every stab of pleasure Light inflicts him. And for that to happen, he has to be in charge.

Slender fingers snake around Yagami wrists, force him to remove his hands from Lawliet’s waist. “What do you truly want, Yagami?” he asks, voice turning colder by the second. “Privileges? Guidance?” He curls a hand under Light’s thigh, slides himself between his legs. 

Yagami gives him a deer-in-headlights sort of look.  _So, the virtues of authorities aren’t lost on you…_ Yagami’s fingers clasp the desk “I never said I wanted you like this.” He manages, and he fixes his gaze on Lawliet. Such a delightful gaze, ablaze and hazy with repressed pleasure. 

“You better respect me now,” Lawliet says, his voice raspy, even as he feels his bloody heart rate pick up. He feels a sudden need to turn this sophisticated young man into a mess – no, not “turn him”. Lawliet is only devoted to the truth. He will  _reveal_  him.

By virtue of his brilliance, however, Yagami scents the possibility to assert his power. He senses Lawliet desire for him as it inexorably swells, seizes his body, and hitches his breath up in his throat. 

So Yagami swallows his pride and attacks. Yagami kneels.

 It’s the clever way out.

He tugs at Lawliet’s jeans and in a heartbeat, he has the zipper down and wriggles his professor’s underwear over his thighs. He shots a wicked look at Lawliet from beneath his long eyelashes.

 “Should I continue, professor? Or would you rather lecture me a bit further?” he says, his voice honeyed, spellbinding, threatening. So very _Yagami_.

And that little smile of his doesn’t fade as he takes Lawliet in his sweet, eager mouth; it stays on as Lawliet’s hips stutter, aching to go deeper; as he finally pins down the perfect cadence, alternating between aggressive strokes and gentle flutters. 

The pleasant smile converts into a smirk, rapacious and vaguely cruel, when Lawliet shoves a shivering hand through his hair.

Light keeps that little smirk, even after his professor comes down his throat, and Lawliet’s first instinct, is not to lament his defeat – although he made a point to have only sex he can control. 

No, his first instinct is to wonder why those we are divinely drawn to are the most likely to escape our comprehension.  

By the time, Lawliet’s mind regains coherency, Yagami is back on his feet, looking controlled and handsome as always, save for his slightly disheveled hair.

 “Told you, we’re not all idiots,” he whispers, sly fingers brushing Lawliet’s cheekbones. 


	3. Chapter 3

Lawliet fancies himself a renaissance man. He specialises in criminal law, psychology and graphology. He has an impressive knowledge of economics, is a keen chess player and has watched documentaries on the most trivial subjects. 

He also keeps a blindfold in his desk. Just in case.

But Light Yagami doesn’t know yet.

“You’ve met with a strange fate, honour student.” Lawliet announces, leaning on his desk.

It’s been two weeks and Yagami still lingers after the Tuesday afternoon class.

  “You’re not my fate.” Light whips back. “There is no such thing.” With each word, he flicks open a button of his shirt. “You, of all people should know –“. 

Lawliet stares, bites his lower lip red. The sight of Light stripping for his sake sends a bolt of arousal shuddering down his spine.  _Already._

The smile etched on his pretty face is familiar; it’s the popular Light, who strolls around like a god around campus. Not quite as careful as Light the polite son. That one is nowhere to be seen. 

“What are you waiting for?” Light says, and he prowls closer, forcing Lawliet to sit at the edge of the desk. “Do I have to show you?” he whispers, hand running down his teacher’s thigh. Lawliet allows himself… – well, it’s not as if he had a choice in the matter. He breathes out a long, desperate whimper, throws his head back and wonders how it has come to this  _again_.

Yagami is not someone you indulge. It’s bound to have consequences.

A sharp pull. Now his belt is left to clatter on the ground. Yagami is all too quick. 

It’s more than Lawliet is willing to handle. 

“You’ll call me  _Sir_ ,” he orders with steely composure. “And you will back off now.” He punctuates with the old familiar glare.

Light’s little smile flatters but doesn’t fade. A chuckle. “As if.” 

He slips his fingers into the waistband of his professor’s trousers,  _that bra_ t, drawing another moan from Lawliet. 

The afternoon could have played out that way – inverted roles, a different sort of thrill. 

But Light talks too much. “You’re not going to fight back?” he taunts, and it sounds almost as if he regrets it –  _of course_. Light is acting the role he wants Lawliet to play; he dictates and orders but his voice is filled with shivers, and his authority is brittle, at best. A pale imitation of his teacher.

Lawliet slides a hand to the back of his student’s neck, pushes him in a passionate kiss. Light’s body stiffens as it so often does when it conflicts with his mind. Perfect. Lawliet whispers praises against his student’s mouth, plays the sensitive skin, brushes all the key spots like fingers on a piano. The result is stellar. 

All the while, his free hand fiddles with his own tie. 

He has the fabric tied around Light’s wrists in a second. Experience be blessed. 

Light’s eyes fly wide open, and the contrast is hypnotizing when his voice rings all faux-casual: “I was expecting this.” 

He pulls at the tie to demonstrate his inability to move, smiling coyly. Now Light can hardly be called a tease – too self-conscious, but at this precise second no other word passes Lawliet’s mind.

For an instant, he is tempted to take a step back, sit in his chair and admire him. Oh, the humiliation would drive him mad. But resisting Light like that; bound and shirtless and eager before him? Impossible. 

Lawliet takes a step, tilts his chin up. A smirk plays on his lips as Light forgets his hands are bound, tries to snake them up to Lawliet’s waist, all too vainly. There is another kiss, where Light opens his mouth hungrily this time. A hand runs up his thigh and the student chokes back a whimper. 

“I was wondering –“  He cuts himself off with a sigh. “…when you would finally.” Another. “Touch me.” 

“Against the wall.” Lawliet commands. It occurs to him they’re acting out a classic – the demanding professor and the proud student he has to reveal with clever rolling of the hips.

 “Don’t you want me to pleasure you first?” Light’s shaking voice belies his smug smile.  _He wants this._ Upon Lawliet’s conflicted silence, Light falls onto his knees, and it’s a miracle Lawliet finds his voice at last. 

“Up. And against the wall.” 

He looks down at Light, reads submissiveness and defiance all at once. The challenge is clear – he wants his teacher to snap, to possess him, to teach him how it feels to venture off-script for once, and Light doesn’t need to open his mouth for Lawliet to understand that.

So be it.

Lawliet slides his fingers down to the sides of Light’s neck, traces slow circles, feeling the mad tempo of Light’s pulse. The teacher takes his time. Light appreciate the torment. He closes his eyes, cherish the touches, and swallows back whines and whimpers. 

At some point, Lawliet taps at his swollen lips. “Open.” He gives a dramatic sigh. “That’s all I’ll give.” Light makes a sound like he’s distressed at the idea. “Do I have to say everything twice?” L drawls, and narrows his eyes as he always does when a student has the nerve to ask him for clarifications. 

After a second of tense silence and intense staring, Light complies. He licks Lawliet’s fingers from pinky to thumb, so focused and eager to please. He doesn’t mind Lawliet pulling at his hair while he does it. He’s never relished the taste of something so intensely. 

“I wouldn’t do that to anyone else.” Light moans, voice catching on a sigh. His head makes a movement to reach for Lawliet’s jeans, and he looks all too ready to unzip it with his teeth. 

Always so lithe, Lawliet moves easily to escape Light’s lips. “No. Get up. You really look like someone who needs to be taken against a wall.” 

Light blushes furiously at that, making arousal pool in Lawliet’s belly. Impatience wins him over. He turns around and stretches an arm over his desk, reaching for the blindfold. 

A little laugh is breathed out behind him.“It’s in my back pocket, Sir.” Light purrs, pulling himself up on his feet. “I found it in your desk. What unusual hobbies you have.” 

_How dare he?_

A quick surge brings Lawliet back to Light. His hands grip his waist, feeling the sharp, fragile bones and he slams him against the wall. 

His look drops to the tie binding Light’s wrists. He regrets not to have pushed the fabric inside his mouth instead. He breathes in and out, collects himself and runs a hand slowly inside his lover’s inner thigh in retaliation. 

“I should punish you.” 

Light tilts his head, licks across Lawliet’s neck, soothing him. Ever so perceptive. His earlier frustration fades away as Light’s eyes dart to the belt he threw away before. “You should.”

Lawliet then makes sense of his own conception of fate. He’s never been lucky. Meeting Light was good fortune, at last, reaching out for him.

But to have Light following his cadence, melting in little sobs against him, desperately needy in all his elegant diligence? 

It feels too perfect for reality. Chance resides in their chemistry, their understanding of each other, their longings and desires of one another. But Fate binds them to accept this. 

Chance made them look at each other, but Fate drags Light into Lawliet’s office every Tuesday. 

 


End file.
